it.
âWell, then?â
And so John told him about the boy, about how the boy had appeared on their porch and how theyâd become protective of him and fond of him.
The sheriff pointed a finger at John. âSo, are you saying you lied to me?â
âWell, sir, I did try toââ
âYou lied to me. You said you were watching the boy for someone.â
âWell, sir, technically we are. We just donât know who that someone is.â
âAnd you didnât bother to report this?â
âWell, sir, I did try . You may recall I came here to inquire about a missing boy.â
âBut you didnât tell me the whole truth, did you?â
âNo, sir. Not precisely. I probably shouldâve asked about missing parents .â
âYou could be locked up for this, you know that?â
âNo, sir.â
âIâm telling you: you could be locked up for this.â
John took a step back. âDo you mean to tell me that protecting a child and feeding him and caring for him is a crime?â
The sheriff again pointed at John. âIt is if you donât have permission. It is if nobody knows where that child is.â
âHe had a note, see?â
Plees taik kair of Jacob .
He is a god good boy .
Wil be bak wen we can .
The sheriff studied the note. âHow do I know you didnât write this note yourself?â
âWhat? Look, I didnât write the note. We donât know who did write it. We figured theyâd be back later that day, or the next day, orââ
âAnd nobody knew where this boy was?â
âWhat? The people knewâthe people who left him. And maybe they told other people. And we knew where he was. My wife and I knew.â
âDonât be getting clever with me.â
âNo, sir. No, sir, I wonât.â
âSo why did you come in here today?â
âI suppose we ought to try to find the boyâs family.â
âYou tired of the boy, is that it? Ready to be rid of him?â
âNo, sir. No, no. My wifeâsheâd be heartbroken to give him upâbut we want to do the right thing by the boy.â
âAnd you expect me to believe that you didnât snatch this boy from somebodyâs yard? This boy just appeared on your porch one morning?â
âItâs the truth.â
The sheriffâs receptionist, Darlene, came in from the back room.
âWhatâs the truth?â she asked.
30
T hey were all in the barn: Marta, John, Jacob, and the sheriff.
Martaâs heart was thumping in her chest; Johnâs tongue felt as dry as if heâd licked sand.
The boy was sitting on a hay bale, drumming on a pail with two sticks. The beagle was curled at his feet.
âSo this is the boy?â the sheriff asked. âThe one that just appeared one day?â
Marta wanted to grab the boy and flee. She wanted to thunk the sheriff on the head. She wanted to scream.
âLetâs have a look at him,â the sheriff said. âCome here, boy.â
The boy kept drumming, engrossed in his work.
âIs he deaf or what?â
âNo!â Marta said.
âHe doesnât obey?â
âHe doesnât know you, thatâs all, or maybe he didnât hear you because heâs concentrating.â
The sheriff approached the boy.
Marta slipped in front of the sheriff and knelt beside the boy. âThis is the sheriff,â she explained. âHe wants to meet you.â
âWhatâs his name again?â
âJacob. He doesnât speak.â
âBoy!â the sheriff shouted.
âHeâs not deaf. You donât have to shout at him,â Marta said, âand he has a name: Jacob.â
âYeah, you told me. Boy, look at me. Howâd you get here?â
âWe told you, he doesnât speak,â Marta said.
âBoy, did these people snatch you and bring you here?â
âSheriff!â
âDid they,
Learning to Kill: Stories